Gondor Shall Rise Again
by Anya Catalyn
Summary: Denathor's only daughter is determined to save Gondor from Sauron and help with the destruction of the Ring.
1. Chapter One

A/N: This is my second LotR story... and I really have to be honest that my first one SUCKED. I have a better idea with this one so I hope you like the first chapter at least.  
  
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Early June brought much joy in the entire kingdom of Gondor, especially in Minas Tirith. The large city prospered this year, despite the drought they had faced in autumn. The spring harvest gave the people in the White City many fruits, vegetables and healthy livestock to live off of for the rest of the year.  
  
Minas Tirith was constantly full of life with the hundreds of people roaming the street everyday. Occasionally, there would be exciting brawls or illegal mutt fights that the guards would have to break up after recovering from their own guffaws. It seemed everyone was free to do as they pleased. The Steward of Gondor only cared about ruling the city and not the people. Despite this, the entire land remained peaceful for the time being.  
  
During one quiet afternoon, a maiden made her way into the large hall of the White Tower, her eyes focused intently forward with near rage. She threw open the doors of the hall, a rush of wind pressing her forest green- colored dress against her tan body.  
  
"Father, a word, if you please..."  
  
The Steward of Gondor, Denathor, looked at the woman with aggravation, "Not now, Aewen..."  
  
The auburn-haired dame, Aewen, narrowed her dark blue eyes at the elderly man. "I demand you hear me, father! A confrontation broke out this morning resulting in two casualties! Will you not punish the criminal?"  
  
Denathor averted his cause, lethargy in his voice, "My people may live their lives as they wish."  
  
"Your people will die if you do nothing!"  
  
"Leave me, Aewen... Leave me now!" the Steward hissed.  
  
Aewen pursed her lips, her fists tightly clenching. For a moment, she waited for her father to change his mind but when only silence lingered in the room, she left. As she strode down the stairs, Aewen gazed up at the white tree in the courtyard, a frown on her lips. It had been dead for years... long before she had been born. She assumed that when the tree and her mother died, everything that involved her family went awry.  
  
Perhaps it was the evil that had been spreading across Middle Earth from the dark land of Mordor. Despite this, she was a woman and automatically presumed to be ignorant to anything and everything. In Gondor, the fewer women knew the better. It was a rule created by none other than the Steward. Luckily, she had her brothers to tell her all that she desired to know. Aewen refused to be treated like a child and constantly asked questions about the war brewing in Middle Earth.  
  
Just recalling the names of her older brothers made Aewen smile. Both men were so kind to her and helped when she needed it, notably if it involved Denathor. The eldest and the one with most heart was proudly named Boromir, who was, by destiny, to be the next Steward of Gondor. Next came Faramir, the "middle child" and quite possibly the most despised of Denathor's kin. Faramir was stern but had a loving heart nonetheless, despite his own unhappy childhood.  
  
"Tell me, sister... do you always ponder in front of our white tree after a quarrel with Father?" Boromir approached Aewen from her left, one hand placed on the hilt of his sword.  
  
Aewen turned to face her oldest brother, "Oh... No, just this once."  
  
"I told you that you could not convince him. Why did you not listen to me?" he stopped beside her, looking at the deceased tree.  
  
The woman turned her head away from Boromir, hoping he would leave her in her peace. Boromir, much to Aewen's dismay, drew closer to her. "You're nearly five-and-thirty winters young... Do you not believe it is time to stop living under our father's rule?"  
  
She eyed Boromir warily. "Why are you saying this?"  
  
Boromir hesitated to continue, but after a moment, did so. "Leave Minas Tirith, Aewen... Outside of the White City is an amazing world and I should know for I have seen it!"  
  
"Leave the city? What devilry has possessed you, brother?"  
  
Just as the man was about to answer, horns blew and men shouted frantically. Aewen and Boromir rushed to the edge of the White Tower, looking down into the city.  
  
"Osgiliath is under attack! Captain Faramir calls for reinforcements!"  
  
In a state of shock, Boromir put his hands against the stone guardrail to support himself. Aewen glanced at him with worry, "You're leaving, then?"  
  
"I must," Boromir said after a moment, "I cannot leave Faramir to die."  
  
"Very well..."  
  
Boromir kissed Aewen upon her forehead. "Do not worry... I will return to you."  
  
She watched Boromir leave and for a moment, felt as if she would never see either one of her brothers again. Her sparkling hues cast a long gaze out at Osgiliath, which had fallen into ruins and fire.  
  
"Come back safely," she whispered, feeling the wind run its fingers through her hair, "...brothers." 


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Wow... Totally forgot that I had a second chapter to post, here...  
  
Throughout the night, Aewen could hear tormented screams of men and the roar of the Nazgul's fell beasts. She had seen these creatures from Mordor only once but it had been recent. As of late, Aewen tried to learn as much as she possibly could that involved an open war. Strangely enough, the very idea of a battle excited her and Aewen longed to be adorned in armor. She would rather die fighting for Gondor than live like her father, waiting the day that the true king of her land would return.  
  
That morning, Aewen woke to silence that greatly unnerved her. The very essence of death was in the air and she wondered the outcome of the great battle. Had her brothers been slaughtered during the night or had they been victorious? Having an immense desire to know the truth, she left her bed and jogged to the balcony, looking far across the plain to Osgiliath. She saw no trace of the enemy but the world remained still. The peacefulness was broken by a sound of men roaring with triumph. A smile tugged at the corners of Aewen's mouth and she knew that she had to get to where the battle had occurred.  
  
She undressed without hesitation but instead of wearing a woman's dress, she looked for a different set of clothing. Last spring, she had a tailor sew her a suit of leather for times when she rode her stallion in the plains.  
  
That was before Gondor became a land of war, despite the war the people held onto.  
  
Aewen found the outfit hidden in a corner of her chamber and put it on over her nude body. It fit quite snugly, which made it a bit discomforting. There weren't many layers considering it only consisted of a green tunic, dark brown riding pants and a black cloak. She stole old boots and gloves that belonged to Faramir when he was much younger and now, they fit her almost perfectly. Once she was satisfied with how everything fit and looked on her, Aewen placed the hood of the cloak over her head. She stepped out into the corridor and made sure no one was watching before escaping to the stables.  
  
"This city was once the jewel of our kingdom! A place of light and beauty and music! And so it shall be once more!" the crowd of men cheered, "Let the armies of Mordor know this: Never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands! The city of Osgiliath has been reclaimed for Gondor!"  
  
"For Gondor!" the soldiers shouted back.  
  
"For Gondor!" Boromir answered.  
  
"For Gondor!" they cried in unison before rewarding themselves with ale.  
  
Aewen found her brothers in casual conversation just a few feet ahead of her. She pushed past the crowd of men and unexpectedly threw her arms around her two older siblings. "I thought I had lost you both..."  
  
Faramir and Boromir embraced Aewen for a moment before pulling away.  
  
"You have a wild imagination," Faramir said, addressing his sister, "It was a difficult fight but you have such little faith."  
  
Aewen looked hurt and Boromir placed a hand on her shoulder for comfort. "Come, come... She only worries for our safety. No need to be so harsh, little brother."  
  
For a moment, Faramir nodded in understanding but his expression suddenly changed. He was looking past Boromir and Aewen with worry and annoyance. "He's here..."  
  
Boromir glanced over his shoulder, his perception focusing on the Steward of Gondor. Quickly, he nudged Aewen so that she would leave in order not to be spotted by her father. Taking the hint, the auburn-haired woman left her two brothers, hiding behind a broken pillar not too far away. From there, she could not hear their talk over the conversing of other men, especially when her family was talking in a low whisper.  
  
Without warning, her arm was seized and Aewen turned her head in surprise. Standing proudly in front of her was the one man she despised but was destined to spend her whole life with.  
  
His name was Seregon, son of Namire. His father was one of the fearless soldiers that had made Gondor's history. To Aewen, Seragon was anything but fearless. He lived in the shadow of his father, even after the hero had been killed in battle. Seregon was not handsome and Aewen was not attracted to him in any way, especially when he had such an egotistical personality. However, it was impossible to escape him; her destiny would not chance.  
  
"Have you heard of my great victory, my lady? How I single-handedly won Osgiliath over?"  
  
Aewen forced a smile, "No, my lord... I recall that it was my brothers who took the city back."  
  
Seregon scowled, "Your brothers are the entire reason that Osgiliath is in ruins! I do not understand you, Lady Aewen. Here, I consistantly offer you love and yet you reject me. When will you leave your family and create your own?"  
  
"...When the war ends."  
  
"That answer is senseless."  
  
Eyes narrowing, Aewen moved closer to Seregon's face, and spoke in a low tone so no others would hear. "You ask for love and you do it well—your voice is full of feeling. But I can only reply that the love that you beg for belongs to one who is dead. You have decked yourself in armor of spectre, my lord, and in so doing have won the endorsement of sentimentalists, dreamers, self-deceivers—but I am none of these things. The shell that was once my heart is not so easily pierced. Unless you respect those who I care about most, I can only reject your affection."  
  
Removing her arm from Seregon's loose hold, she left him and returned to the area where her brothers had been standing. Now, only Faramir remained. Almost instantly, Aewen noticed the distraught expression on his face and she became concerned. "Faramir, what has happened? Where have Father and Boromir gone?"  
  
"They left... Boromir has left for Rivendell. Our father sent his beloved son to the Council of Elrond."  
  
"What?!"  
  
Faramir turned to her, "The weapon of the enemy was recovered. The One Ring... Isildur's bane."  
  
Aewen's eyes grew large in shock and she nearly stumbled over. Her brother was gone and she knew exactly why the Steward had sent Boromir to the council. Denathor wanted the Ring as his own.  
  
Gondor's fate rested in the hands of Boromir and she could only hope that he wouldn't obey his father's wishes. 


End file.
